


Violins and Aching Suns

by TheQueen



Series: Seven Sins Ain't Enough [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Drabble, Fake AH Crew, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:52:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4460747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff Laser Ramsey was an asshole. Slamming his head against the dashboard out of sheer boredom, Michael groaned from the depths of his soul. “I hate Geoff and I fucking hate this job.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violins and Aching Suns

Geoff Laser Ramsey was an asshole. Michael had learnt that back when he’d first joined the crew and Geoff had made him run a “personal” errand. Forced to carry a sack of fucking rocks over rooftops as some bullshit loser gang of wannabe Mafia fucks gave chase as a distraction had not been a highlight of his already shitty first week on the job. When he’d found out, it had taken every ounce of his professionalism to not chuck the bag at the man's face and it had only been after Geoff had found out he’d accidentally killed their head honcho (he hadn’t, actually. The dumbass had mistimed a jump and hadn’t stuck the landing, not that Geoff was ever going to find out) that he’d received a cut of the take.

Slamming his head against the dashboard out of sheer boredom, he groaned from the depths of his soul. Ryan hums in sympathy, still playing with the radio with a sort of indifference that could only come after too much heat and stillness, switching the dial after listening to a few seconds of some dance song for the four millionth fucking time. Fuck. “I hate Geoff and I fucking hate this job.”

Ryan sighs.

Michael groans.

Outside a bird flings itself up and away as the sun slips behind a cloud, not that it does anything to stifle the aching heat outside that had convinced Ryan to ditch the mask and for Michael to shrug off his jacket, leaving the hot leather of the car to stick against his sweat-stained tank top. The song on the radio, some soft violin number, wraps around the car like a barrier, coloring everything an almost golden softness. He eyes the gas meter sitting at an eight full (full enough to leave the car on but the engine off meaning the air condition was off sucking dick as they baked in the mid-July heat) with attempted contempt but it was too hot for more than slight irritation and he was left with nothing but sighs and a heavy weight that held him in place: stuck to the hot leather, hair stuck to his forehead and his throat aching for a cool beer. And he thinks, for a moment, that if they weren’t on a job, this moment would almost be romantic.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” Ryan finally admits as the song tappers off and the radio host comes on with a warning of commercials, a heavy defeat in Ryan's voice as he rolls his shoulders and turns to Michael. There’s swear on the top of his lip and glistening on his forehead. His hair is messed up from running his fingers through it in silent irritation and stuck slick to his ears. They’d been sitting here in the heat for too long. Michael reaches up and clears the sweat from Ryan's nose with the pad of his thumb. “We’re going to have to call it.”

Michael sighs, drops his hand. “You know what it means if we go back empty handed.”

Ryan nods and switches the engines on, the air blasting from the car hotter than the breeze before slowly starting to cool. “You call it in.”

Michael curses and pries himself off the seat to grab his phone.

As they pull out of the dirt parking lot by the Vinewood sign and head back to the main road, air conditioning blasting as if to make up for the past three hours of hell, Michael considers how he’s going to tell Geoff that their guy didn’t show. “I hate gang wars,” Michael admits.

“Jacks gonna be pissed.” Ryan adds. “She put a lot into this deal.”

Michael sighs--he hadn't thought of that--and switches on his phone. He has two text messages from Gavin, one from Ray, and three from Lindsay. He reminds himself to confirm her dinner invite and ignores the rest of his notifications to call Geoff. “He’s going to be annoyed.” Michael whines as the phone starts to ring.

Ryan hums. “Better you then me.”

God. This sucked. “Hey, Boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Currently taking Fake AH prompts at my tumblr:thequeen117.tumblr.com


End file.
